Page 13 of Wicked Obsession

“Don’t count her out, Ski,” Rowland said. “Langley’s tough. That scar you have should remind you of that every day.”

Before he realized what he was doing, he raised his hand and brushed his temple.

“You underestimated her,” Stony reminded him. “Kept bitching about having to put our mission on hold to rescue some damn princess.”

Griff nodded. “She hadn’t even fucked up. She’d beeninsidethe US Embassy when the Puerto Jardinese insurgents grabbed her.”

“Where the hell is Bryce with the food? We need to get back on the road,” Ryder said.

“You were the one who fucked up,” Griff continued, undeterred.

“He’s right,” Rowland agreed. “You never should have let her know you thought she was some spoiled heiress. She played on that until she had an opportunity to use your assumptions against you.”

“You can’t blame her for not believing you were Special Forces.” Griff folded his arms over his chest.

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t blame her.” Ryder thrust both hands through his hair. “I looked worse than I do right now. I know that.” And he had acted more like a mercenary than a soldier from the time he’d pulled her out of the window of the shack. He’d been disrespectful, sarcastic, impatient, and provocative. Langley had told him later that she believed he’d stolen her from the rebels to ransom herto her father. “Can we get back to business now?”

“All you had to do was rescue her while we kept the insurgents busy and then join up with the rest of the team at the rendezvous point. Simple assignment.” Griff rocked back on his heels, amusement in his posture if not on his face.

“Simple,” Rowland agreed, “if your rescued hostage doesn’t escape and elude you for nearly an hour.”

“Some friends you are.” Ryder scowled at the pair of them, but he gave Stony a few extra seconds. Griffin was abrasive most of the time, but Rowland was the quiet one. Usually, anyway.

“We are your friends, fuckwit,” Griff said genially.

Stony nodded. “You’re thinking the worst, maybe you believe she’s dead and we should be looking for bodies, not the car. We’re reminding you that Langley is tough, smart, and knows how to handle herself. Our money’s on her.”

Voice tight, Ryder said, “Puerto Jardin was a one-off. Langley is a lady, not some Amazonian warrior.”

“Dude, you call her hellcat.” Griff gave him a what-the-fuck look.

“That started as a joke.” Mostly because when he’d referred to her as princess in the rainforest,she’d turned icy on him and he’d wanted her cooperative.

“You’d think that rock she hit him with would have knocked some sense into his head,” Griff said with mock sadness.

“Some people learn slower than others.” Stony’s face was bland. “He’s clinging to his princess fantasy and ignoring the fact that she’s a fighter.”

Ryder closed his eyes for a moment, dug deep for control, and said, “Even if you’re right, the odds are against her.”

“Fuck the odds,” Griff said with a growl and poked him in the chest. “This team protects its women, and we consider Langley one of ours. We’re finding her and she’ll be alive, got it?”

“I want to believe that.” God, did he ever, but the more time that passed, the worse her chances became. He looked back to the west. “Night will be here soon.”

“Then let’s get ready to roll. Mako’s coming with dinner and we can eat while we search,” Rowland said calmly.

He glanced over in time to see Bryce cross the drive-thru lane and cut between two overgrown bushes that separated the restaurant from the gas station. It wasn’t until he grew closer that he realized Mako looked angry.

“What happened?” Ryder demanded as soon as his teammate reached him.

“They ran out of fries. I didn’t wait for them to make a new batch, not when I’d stood in line for-fucking-ever. I got onion rings.” Mako glanced down at the maps. “Are we looking for the car or standing around?”

“The car,” Ryder said immediately.

Rowland clapped him on the shoulder, gathered up the maps, and opened the door to the SUV. “That’s right. We have to save the kidnapper before Langley hurts him too badly.”

Chapter 6

Most people went their entire lives without being abducted, but not her. Here she was on her second time as a hostage in fourteen months. Impatiently, Langley shifted in the dirty, sagging, mildewed armchair and wound up with a spring poking her in the butt. With a grimace, she wriggled to the side until she was away from the metal coil.

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